Confident in Romance
by SnowyWolff
Summary: Collection of one-shots for Spamano Week 2018.
1. Day 1 - Music

**Quiet Nights**

* * *

It's on quiet nights like these that Lovino strums the guitar that Antonio has in his study. It's really Lovino's guitar, but no one seems to believe that. They assume it's Antonio's because it's a Spanish guitar (stereotypical, but understandable). Yet, it's Antonio who has not a melodic fibre in his being. Yes, he likes music, but he cannot create it. Not like Lovino can.

He strums no particular tune, just picks at the strings in a pleasant melody that comes to him as he plays. His eyes are lost in thought, staring into the flames dancing in the hearth. He prefers to sit on the soft rug in front of the couch when he plays, table shoved to the side, guitar in his lap.

Antonio likes to watch Lovino on such nights, more so than he already likes to do. There is a quiet beauty to him when he plays guitar, a peace that can only be obtained via the soft sounds he produces.

Lovino pauses, blinking as if breaking from a trance, and turns to look up at Antonio. His gaze holds nothing of its usual acidity, just this earnest glint that is meant for Antonio and Antonio alone.

Antonio reaches for the wine bottle, smiling. After pouring two glasses, he lowers one toward Lovino and waggles his eyebrows.

"Imported from Italy," he says.

Lovino scoffs, taking the glass from his fingers deftly. "Naturally."

"Though, Spanish wine is perfectly fine as well," Antonio continues, sipping his glass insipidly.

Lovino sighs, rolling his eyes. He turns back to the hearth and mutters, "But Italian is better."

Antonio laughs, leaning back against the couch. He reaches forward to run a hand through Lovino's soft hair, relishing the rare lack of hair products.

Lovino simply sips his wine until the glass is empty, reaching toward the table to set it away. He moves his fingers across the strings, resting on particular notes, but never actually playing them. Not until he finds the right ones.

Antonio waits patiently, retracting his hand from Lovino's hair in favour of supporting his head as he leans forward. This way he can catch the side of Lovino's face, the way emotion dances in the flicker of the fire.

"You're beautiful, Lovi," Antonio says, because on rare nights like these he can. Without sputter, without bitterness, without a cruel rebuttal from Lovino.

A smile, small and sweet, and the first notes of a carefully planned melody is what he gains in return. It's Lovino's way of speaking when the words are hard to find. It makes Antonio's heart swell and his head float.

He sighs and leans back, sipping his wine. His hand finds its way back to Lovino's hair as the music swirls around the room, enveloping them into another world.

Quiet nights are never really quiet for them, but it's nights like these that Antonio loves the most.

* * *

 **I should've been studying but guess what**


	2. Day 2 - Historical OR Fantasy

**Tabletop Romance**

* * *

Lovino was quickly running out of options. He had lost his party, his armour was badly damaged, his head throbbed from an earlier assault, he only had one potion left, his bow had given in a turn earlier, and some _asshole_ with a club had gone and smashed up his shield. All he had now was his sword and hopefully at least half his wits due to the possible concussion he might be sporting. Shit. He really should have gone with a stealth class.

He dodged the heavy sword just barely, rolling in the dirt (yuck!) and somehow managing enough momentum to end up on his feet again behind the monster (yay!). Raising his sword, Lovino slammed it down on the bastard's neck, right where it connected to the shoulder. The blow reverberated through Lovino's entire being, but the monster dropped thankfully.

That had to be the last of the bunch. It just had to be. Leaning heavily on his sword, Lovino wiped his brow, only vaguely aware that he was smearing blood across it instead. He felt positively haggard.

He really did not want to enter the next room. He wanted to turn around and leave, but he knew he couldn't. The door to the dungeon had been sealed. If he could just stay in this room, redecorate, make a new life, that would just be peachy keen. Too bad he could feel the driving force of the dungeon, compelling him forward, enticing him with the promise of treasure and freedom.

He checked the corpses around him in the hopes of finding any potions at all. At this point he'd even settle for a stamina potion. Anything that could provide him an edge to what he hoped to be the last battle of this Godforsaken hole in the ground.

All he found was a dubious-looking dagger and some gold coins that normally set his heart racing, but now only caused his stomach to drop. What did money matter if he wouldn't see the light of day again?

He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to the heavy wooden door separating him from whatever hell was next. His hands shook as he muttered a quick prayer to whatever god was willing to listen to a poor mortal's final whimpering. Pushing open the door, he could smell the fear and death emanating from the room.

He unsheathed his sword as he inched inside, immediately put off by the permeating darkness that was only broken by the glint of gold from piles around the room. Lovino observed the piles of treasure just begging to be snatched, his fingers itching with the urge. Yet, he could not shake the feeling he was being watched, so he turned away from the gold, eyes searching for anything that stood out from the shadows.

A throne stood at the far end of the room, inconspicuously cast in shadows, but even from where he stood at the entrance Lovino could see how lavish it was. Drapes reaching from the ceiling flowed over it, creating an illusion of massiveness. It was impressive. He was certain it was decorated with all manner of gold and gemstones, even if the only spark he saw coming from the throne was an electric green that stared at him in quiet anticipation.

Lovino swallowed. He wanted to raise his sword, but his arms were beginning to shake now as well. This wasn't going to end well.

A white smile joined the green eyes in the shadows and without a sound in the air, the _thing_ stood and walked out into the dimmed light.

Lovino had to admit the demon did look remarkably more human than he had anticipated. A handsome face framed by wild chocolate curls was split almost in two by the cheerful grin the man was wearing. His dark skin made his sparkling green eyes like beacons, instantly drawn in, instantly drowned. And yet, the long demonic horns curling above his head and the claws that he had for feet forebode Lovino's demise.

"Hi," the demon said, strangely casual. He rocked back on his claws, arms clasped behind his back.

Lovino stared at him, caught between sheer disbelief and the desire to scowl. He settled for a wary, "Hey."

"I'm Antonio," the demon continued, the eerie grin falling away to something a little kinder, exuding more of a _'s up, dude?_ kind of vibe instead of a _I_ _'ll disembowel you_ kind of vibe.

Was this guy for real? Couldn't he just get it on with and kill Lovino already?

But the demon—Antonio—was giving him such an earnest look that his name spilled from his mouth before he could entirely think it through.

"Lovino," Antonio echoed, closing his eyes as if he was tasting the word, savouring it. "What a wonderful name."

Lovino stared at him, entirely unsure on how to approach the situation. He had prepared to die almost immediately. He had not prepared for some strangely normal talk with a demon lord. In all honesty, he was far too exhausted to even deal with this. The adrenaline had worn out, the last of a strength potion filtered from his bloodstream. Lovino was utterly and undeniably spent, so he slowly sank to the floor, sword clattering from his useless, broken fingers.

The demon watched him. He opened his mouth, closed it again, shifted a little, but still did not attack. In fact, he just seemed confused.

"You," Antonio started, but then stopped as if he didn't actually know where he was going. He took a step forward, peering down at Lovino. "You don't look quite all right."

Lovino wanted to scream. What was up with this asshole? But with a lack of energy, all Lovino managed was a muttered, "No shit, dickhead."

Antonio did not seem bothered. He simply stepped forward and knelt in front of Lovino, his long tail splaying across the floor next to him. There was something very earnest and very open in Antonio's eyes. Lovino didn't know what to think of it.

The demon reached forward and touched Lovino's cheek. His fingers were surprisingly soft and Lovino swallowed as they trailed down along the line of his neck. He closed his eyes because certainly this had to be it. The demon would strangle him or snap his neck or somehow stab him or—

"You're really pretty, you know that?"

Lovino's exhausted mind desperately tried to make sense of the words. Blinking heavily, because he might be on the verge of falling asleep, he couldn't even be startled by the close proximity of Antonio. All he saw was that beautiful green of his eyes.

Antonio's hand was back on his cheek, tilting his head back a little. Nodding to himself, he affirms, "Yes, really pretty. Your eyes are like gold, except better. They're _alive_."

All Lovino's mind could procure to that statement were a series of question marks. Mostly it just wanted to rest however, and his eyes drooped.

Antonio hummed and before Lovino could entirely comprehend what was happening, he was lifted in the demon's arms and carried away. More question marks flew through his thoughts. He tried to struggle, but all he managed was an arm flopping up against the demon's face. The idiot didn't even seem to notice.

He was deposited on a soft, soft, _soft_ bed and Lovino almost passed out in sheer relief. Then his brain still screamed something about evil demon lord and Lovino watched as Antonio climbed in beside him. He certainly looked like one, but was not acting the part at all. A grin, unassuming and careless, and a pat to Lovino's cheek were the last he remembered before his body finally gave up.

* * *

Lovino stared up at the canopy of the bed, stuck under the weight of Antonio softly snoring into his shoulder.

"What the fuck," he whispered because what the fuck? He was alive and somehow in the same bed as the boss of the dungeon. What the hell was going on? What the fuck was this fucker playing at?

Lovino had to know and threw all sense of self preservation out of the window by tugging at the demon's hair. Hard.

Antonio jolted, a snort cutting off his last snore jarringly. He blinked blearily, slowly moving up to lean on his elbows so he could peer at Lovino curiously.

"What is it?" Antonio yawned and rubbed his eyes, face dipping dangerously close to Lovino's. "I dressed your wounds, but if you're still hurt I have some health potions lying around."

 _What?_

Lovino stared openly because he really was confused. Antonio appeared confused at his confusion. This seemed to become a common routine already, gods.

When Lovino didn't clarify, or responded in any sort of way, Antonio tilted his head and spoke his name. A demon lord speaking his name in such sweet tones should not be making Lovino blush this much, but it did and in frustration he slapped the demon's chest.

With difficulty Lovino managed to ground out, "What the _fuck_ is this?"

Antonio was apparently an oblivious idiot. "Is what?"

" _This_." Lovino tried to gesture, but couldn't be much more specific than a wide arc indicating _everything_.

"A bed?" Antonio asked, frowning. "Lovino, I think you might have a concussion. I'm going to grab a health potion, okay?"

Antonio tried to sit up, with the emphasis on _tried_. Lovino wouldn't let him. He was getting pissed off now because he was not getting the answer he wanted and clearly the fucker needed explicit instructions.

" _No_ , you dense motherfucker." Lovino had grabbed on to the first things he could get a hold of, thus a fistful of Antonio's tunic and his dumb face. Holding onto his chin, he squeezed the demon's surprisingly squishy face. "Listen, I don't know _what_ your game is, but I'll spell it out for you. Why the fuck am I in bed, with you, alive and taken care of instead of on the dungeon floor in a puddle of blood?"

Antonio blinked at him. "Well, that's a little morbid, isn't it?"

"Answer the goddamn question, Antonio."

The demon's face practically lit up the room as he smiled far too brightly for a creature of darkness and death. "You remembered by name! I was a little worried you forgot about yesterday because you seemed so out of it, but I'm glad—"

" _Antonio_."

Finally catching onto Lovino's bad temper, Antonio pried his fingers from his face and laid them down on the sheets. "I told you. You're pretty. Very golden. I like gold."

Lovino stared at him. Antonio stared back, a little more hesitant now.

"I'm a prize?" Lovino asked because his brain didn't know what else to make of it.

Antonio actually had to think it over. "Not so much? I just don't want you to die? You seem pretty sweet."

Lovino snorted. Sweet. Never in his life had he ever been described as _sweet_. Stubborn, yes. Prideful, absolutely. Annoying, undeniably. But sweet? No one liked him; his own party had abandoned him in the dungeon of the demon lord, for Heaven's sake.

"You're the demon lord, a final boss. Why would you not want me to die? I might just kill you, you know."

Antonio actually looked strangely upset. "What's with all this dying? No one's going to die."

"But you're _evil_!" Lovino exclaimed, even though it sounded somewhat ridiculous in the current circumstances. Antonio had been nothing but kind to him _and it freaked him out_.

"No, I'm not!" Antonio said, sitting up next to Lovino and frowning down at him from a better angle. "Why would you say that?"

"Cause you're a demon lord!"

"That's stereotypical!"

Lovino stared, incredulous. What the hell?

Antonio pursed his lips, somehow managing to look both offended and confused. He placed a finger against Lovino's cheek and tapped it. It almost felt as if he was being chastised.

"Lovi, why did you enter this dungeon?"

Lovino frowned, confused by the sudden change in topic. He slapped Antonio's hand away and for some reason the demon took that as permission to lie back down on top of him.

"I—" he wheezed because the fucker was heavy. It was also more difficult to glare at Antonio now. "I wanted to get stronger."

"You're lying," Antonio said, ear pressed against Lovino's chest.

"Am not." Lovino pulled at Antonio's hair again. It gained him no reaction, but a quiet hum. A hum that said _I don't believe you_. "I came to level up."

"You seemed ready to die, Lovino," Antonio said softly, seriously. "That's not getting stronger. That's desperation."

Lovino ground his teeth, not wanting to say the words that would hurt more than the cuts left by the dungeon creatures.

Antonio lifted his head and shuffled up until he was hovering over Lovino again, eyes kind and gentle. Lovino couldn't stand it, so he glanced away until Antonio's hand came up to cup Lovino's cheek and forced him to look back.

"Lovino." His voice was just as kind as his eyes.

"My party left me." The words are soft, unbidden, and Lovino blinked rapidly. "I'm bratty and annoying and always complaining so they left me to die alone in here."

Antonio was still, his eyes searching Lovino's. When he spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous, finally— _finally_ something demonic that was not purely aesthetic. "Cruelty of man knows no bounds."

Lovino snorted. He wanted to say something about the cruelty of demons, but with Antonio's fingers caressing his cheek it was a little hard to think. Lovino looked into those sparkling green eyes and swallowed.

Antonio dipped a little lower, his nose brushing Lovino's. "Stay with me, Lovi."

Scoffing, Lovino finally let go of Antonio's hair, brushing by the horns. Up close, Antonio was just handsome, and stupid. Especially stupid. Absolute moron. But—

Lovino trailed his fingers over Antonio's cheek. "You're one weird demon. Total dumbass."

Antonio blinked and licked his lips. "Is that good?"

Humming, Lovino tugged Antonio a little closer. He was vaguely aware of the tail curling near his leg in quiet anticipation. "What's a human supposed to do in a demon lair?" He muttered the words because he felt as if he was violating every rule within the world.

"Keep the demon lord company." Antonio's voice sent a shiver down Lovino's spine, pleasant and exciting.

Then again, Lovino was never one to follow rules in the first place.

Lovino smiled and it seemed to be enough encouragement for Antonio to dip down and press his lips to Lovino's. Lovino closed his eyes, placing his free arm at the back of Antonio's neck, holding him there to deepen the kiss.

Antonio broke it with a smile, which quickly grew into a euphoric grin. He pecked Lovino's lips once more before he drew back and sat up.

Lovino groaned, hand reaching out to grab whatever he could to keep the demon from leaving. Antonio caught his hand and pressed a kiss to that too, a bright chuckle escaping his lips.

"Rest easy, _mi amor_ ," he said. "You're still recovering."

"You don't have to leave," Lovino grumbled, half-heartedly trying to sit up, but being prevented by Antonio's tail. He glared at Antonio, who still seemed very amused, eyes twinkling.

"There is something that I have to do." Antonio pressed Lovino's hand back into the sheets and stood gracefully. He brushed a hand through his unruly hair and grinned at Lovino's obvious staring. "When you wake, I'll be here. I promise."

Lovino watched as Antonio vanished into the darkness before he fully allowed himself to relax in the bed. When he believed the demon gone, he muttered, "You better," and allowed himself to drift off in the sheets of the demon lord.

* * *

 **BONUS**

"Hey, Lovi, can you do a saving throw? You can add your charisma to it."

"Okay? I rolled a twelve plus two, so fourteen?"

"Uh, well, that failed, so the demon lord succeeds in seducing Lovino."

"…He—what?"

"Antonio, I don't think you're allowed to do that as the dungeon master?"

"Of course I can. You've derailed my plot so fantastically already, so why not throw it all to hell?"

* * *

 **What does Antonio have to do? Hmm probably kill some evil party members.**


	3. Day 3 - Summer and Ocean

**The Spanish Speedo**

* * *

"Lovi, what are you staring at?" Feliciano asked, rubbing sunscreen onto his arms.

Lovino snapped his attention back to him, a blush spreading quickly across his cheeks. "Nothing," he murmured. A plain lie, so Feliciano glanced around the beach for whatever could have grabbed his brother's attention.

Nothing out of the ordinary caught Feliciano's eye. There were a handful of pretty girls around, but he knew Lovino wasn't interested in them. No, it had to have been…

Feliciano giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. "Oh, that's just cheap, Lovi."

Lovino carefully looked at his brother, then followed his gaze to what he had, indeed, been staring at earlier. A dark-skinned man with muscles in all the right places stood ankle-deep in the water, shouting and smiling at what Lovino assumed to be his friends. His shapely face was framed by dark curls, still bouncy despite the water clinging to it. But what captivated Lovino the most were the electric green eyes that he could distinguish even from this distance. They were such a contrast to his otherwise dark appearance that it left Lovino a little breathless. However, what had initially drawn Lovino's eyes in that direction at all, was the obnoxious red and yellow speedo that left nothing to the imagination _at all_.

Not that he was going to admit that to Feliciano, though. Little shit had enough dirt on him to last him a lifetime.

"Don't be gross, Feli." Lovino flicked his sunglasses back on his nose, settling back in his beach chair. "Not my type at all."

Feliciano hummed, eyes still on the Spanish Speedo. Lovino closed his eyes, hoping to catch a little rest as he tanned. He hadn't slept well at all the past few weeks with essay deadlines piling up, but now it was finally summer and he was in Italy, so he was going to make the best of it.

"Hey, Lovi."

If only his incessantly awake and annoying brother could just leave him to actually do that. Lovino pretended to sleep nonetheless, not wanting to give Feliciano any satisfaction. He could entertain himself just fine.

"Lovi."

Not answering. Sleeping. Think of sheep, except they don't help him sleep at all. Think of the string theory then. Somewhere out there, there was a Lovino asleep and resting and not dealing with stupid little brothers. Hell, there might be a universe in which he had no brother at all, but he supposed that it would be a little too quiet and a little too boring then. Maybe.

Feliciano gasped and said, "Oh goodness gracious, he's taken off the speedo."

Lovino sat up because even if the speedo had left little to the imagination, the real thing was always better. Except… except the speedo was still very much covering a very nice ass and Feliciano was doing a very poor job of hiding his laughter.

"Feliciano!" Lovino had turned a bright red, but that didn't stop him from grabbing Feli's t-shirt and dragging him close. "You little—What do you want?"

"Go swim with me!" Feliciano managed between the giggles.

Lovino narrowed his eyes, then realized that Feliciano probably wouldn't see, so he slid his sunglasses up in his hair. Feliciano finally managed to quell his snickering and pouted instead.

"Please? I promise I won't poke any more fun at your taste in speedos."

"Oh my God," Lovino breathed, letting go of Feliciano's shirt. He knew better than to leave Feli alone considering what happened last time, so he made a show of reluctance as he stood from his chair, stretching.

Dropping his sunglasses in the big beach bag they had brought, he waited until Feliciano was swim ready, which really meant double checking whether his shirt still covered everything. While swimming with a shirt on was a pain, it was much preferred over Lovino beating the shit out of every bigot on the beach. They had had enough of that previous summers and Feliciano agreed that Lovino deserved a break.

"Should I set you up with Speedo Man?" Feliciano whispered as they reached the water.

Lovino shot him a withering look. "Drop it, Feli," he hissed, then shivered as the cold water lapsed around his ankles. Despite the sweltering weather, the Mediterranean still had to warm for the summer.

"Like you hope he drops his speedo?"

Lovino tried to to lunge for Feliciano, but the twerp just laughed. Ducking under his arms, Feli took a few big leaps until the water reached his thighs and dove in. He surfaced a moment later, wiping the hair from his eyes.

"Come, come, Lovi," he said and waggled his eyebrows. "Just get it over with."

"Fuck off." Lovino inhaled sharply as he slowly waded deeper into the water. He wasn't going to swim anyway. He didn't want to ruin his hair.

Feliciano rolled his eyes because he knew that Lovino was fussy like that and instead tried to ignore the shirt clinging uncomfortably to his body. He always got strange looks, and then Lovino would start to glare, and things generally devolved further from there.

Lovino glanced around as he sank into the water, breathing deeply. He caught sight of speedo man to his right and vowed to not look in that direction ever again. Right was off-limits. Right was—very right, holy shit the guy looked so _good_. Lovino almost lost his footing when Feliciano swam up beside him.

" _Fratello_ , you're not inconspicuous at all," he sang, pinching his side.

Lovino whipped his head around and made an attempt at drowning Feliciano, but it would be difficult to explain to their family that he had murdered his brother due to incessant comments toward his taste in men, so he stopped when Feliciano tried to kick him.

Feliciano was still grinning however when he surfaced and it _pissed_ Lovino off. He narrowed his eyes as Feliciano stood, hands on his hips, ready for the challenge.

Screw his hair, screw pride, Feliciano was going to get it. Stupid little brothers and their stupid ability to hit where it hurt. Good thing Lovino was a big brother and big brothers were very well-known for making little brothers suffer.

He advanced, arms raised—

Something struck him in the head with the force of a fucking truck and the world turned black.

* * *

When Lovino came to again, he was immediately aware of two things. One, he was still alive and well, lying in the sand on the beach, shaded from the sun. Two:

"Ah, you should give him mouth to mouth probably," he heard Feliciano say, all innocence and worry.

"You think?" Another voice, accented and filled with sunshine answered him.

"Oh, absolutely." That sly little twit.

The other person hummed. There was some shuffling and then Lovino's head was moved back. He could feel someone breathing over him and it was enough to send his head rushing. He jerked upright, headbutting whomever had been about to give him the kiss of life.

"I'm fine!" Lovino shouted, covering his mouth to ward off any attempts at another mouth coming closer while his other hand moved up to rub his forehead because, shit, that had fucking hurt.

Blinking through pain and embarrassment, Lovino focused on whomever had wanted to resurrect him. And froze because it was no one else but the Spanish Speedo. He willed himself not to look down—oh, god, don't look down, don't look, don't _look_ —he looked.

Shit, fuck, dammit, he had looked and now it was even more awkward because Lovino was so very red and Speedo Spaniard was not paying attention, just rubbing his head as he sat back in the sand and left even less to the imagination. Lovino wanted to die, but settled for the next best thing which was hiding his face in his hands and begging God to open up the ground below him.

Feliciano was laughing, not at all pretending to be worried for anyone's wellbeing, especially not Lovino's.

"Lovino," he giggled, "this is Antonio."

Lovino narrowed his eyes at his brother. On the one hand he was still contemplating on how to kill him best, on the other hand… Well, he had provided Lovino with Speedo's name and an excuse to talk to him.

Antonio was looking at Lovino curiously, somewhat cautiously also, but there was a meek smile and it made Lovino's stomach do shit.

"Hey," Lovino mumbled, then shot Feliciano a questioning glance. "What the fuck happened?"

"Ah," Antonio started and laughed sheepishly. He scratched his head, looking all innocent and cute and—Lovino really had to stop, God. "You got hit in the head. By a Frisbee. I threw it. Sorry about that."

Lovino stared at him, caught somewhere between incredulity and anger because _really_? A Frisbee? He got knocked out by a Frisbee? Oh my God, that was so stupidly embarrassing, even more so than being caught staring too much at a guy in a speedo. Who was looking increasingly more worried the longer Lovino kept silent.

"I—" Lovino started, then stopped because he didn't even know what he wanted to say. "You—" He gave up and buried his head in hands. This was so dumb, and Feliciano was _still_ giggling.

"Please allow me to make it up to you," Antonio said, a little desperate.

Lovino bit back a bitter laugh and gave Antonio a look instead. He hoped it conveyed something along the lines of _you better take me on a date or fucking else_ , but he knew that people generally couldn't read him at all and he'd just look angry instead.

Either Antonio had no sense of self preservation or was just really dense or somehow could already read Lovino like a book because he smiled and pointed to where Lovino knew was a beach restaurant. "How about I buy you and your brother lunch?"

Lovino almost groaned, but luckily for him Feliciano could occasionally be a pretty decent wingman.

"How about," he said, standing up and squinting at nothing in particular, "you just take my brother and I'll stay here and read a book."

Antonio blinked as Feliciano gave Lovino that look that said _you can thank me later by cooking pasta for the remainder of the week_ before he turned on his heel and settled in his beach chair, flicking his sunglasses on in definite dismissal.

Turning to Lovino and smiling a lot more shyly now, Antonio extended a hand. "Is that okay with you, Lovino?"

Instead of answering, Lovino took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Brushing the sand off his trunks and running a hand through his probably ruined hair, he thought for something to say.

"Just put on some pants," was not entirely what he had meant to say because it would be a waste of display, but he realized that he probably would pass out from the sheer effort it took to _look up, Lovi_.

He swallowed, focusing on Antonio's nice green eyes. Also nice. And safe.

"Pants?" Antonio scratched the back of his neck, looking down. "I guess? You gotta give me a minute."

He jogged off and Lovino (and the other beach goers) got a _fantastic_ Baywatch-esque view of Antonio's ass.

Feliciano whistled and Lovino whirled on him because he needed to not be obvious.

"Fuck, Feli, what am I going to do?"

Feliciano tore his eyes away from Antonio and lowered his sunglasses to look him sternly in the eye. "You're going on a date, Lovi."

Lovino wheezed, touching his cheek to confirm that yes, he probably was as red as the heat alluded. "I can't. I fuck up every date I go on. Ever. I can't be turned down by a man in a speedo. My heart won't take it."

Feliciano rolled his eyes, finally ransacking their bag for one of Lovino's trashy romance novels. He also tossed Lovino's shirt at him because the sun was at its zenith and even Lovino's dark skin was starting to complain. "He already passed the first test, so I think you're fine."

Lovino wanted to complain more, but some strange, cosmic force compelled him to turn back around. What he found was an actual scene from Baywatch, except with a Spanish David Hasselhoff who would cause more drowning than he would prevent, really. Lovino certainly felt like lying down and actually accept that mouth to mouth.

Antonio stopped in front of a dazed Lovino, brandishing his red shorts with a strange pride. He still wasn't wearing a shirt, but Lovino could deal with those abs way better than anything below the waist. And they were just. As. Nice.

Nice.

Either Antonio was the nicest human being on Earth for not pointing out Lovino's more than blatant staring or he was just that thick-headed. As Lovino once more had to force himself to look up, he was leaning more toward the latter as Antonio's face betrayed no trace of any knowledge whatsoever.

"I borrowed these from my friend so they're a little tight," Antonio said, looking only a little sheepish.

Lovino's eyes fell back down, but this time it was totally solicited. Antonio expected an answer on that after all.

And they were tight, but could not be as tight as the speedo, so really Lovino didn't understand what Antonio's issue was.

Eyes back up and he was certain he imagined the flash of a smug little smile Antonio hid behind that sunny exterior of his. Lovino couldn't be sure though, so he pretended to be casual. You know, as casual he could manage after pulling a near-drowning stunt followed by no restraint whatsoever at all.

"Nah," and Lovino had to clear his throat—because the squeak that his voice had become was really an after effect of water in his lungs, he was sure. He placed a hand on his hip in a further attempt of _Hey, I'm totally cool and not desperate are you gonna pay for that lunch yet?_ "They look good."

Antonio grinned, rocking back on his heels in bouncy excitement. "Cool. You look good too."

Lovino turned red(der) in an instant. He sputtered, noticed Feliciano snorting and hiding behind his book, and decided that he could really use that promised food now. But, he had to play it… cool.

"Don't assume, bastard." Okay, not so much cool as the default setting, but it gave Antonio this wonderful expression of confusion mixed with a strange kind of excitement. Lovino could work with that. "Lets go eat."

Antonio smiled again—it seemed something perpetual—and bounded after Lovino's large strides toward the restaurant. Their hands brushed and it did things to Lovino's heart. Apparently, Antonio noticed because he decided to just go all in and grabbed his hand.

Just like that. It had to be illegal for anyone to be _that_ confident. Lovino stared at their hands, then up at Antonio with _questions_ in his eyes.

And it appeared to convey to Antonio because he squeezed Lovino's hand in reassurance and muttered, "Really cute."

The audacity! The confidence! Lovino was incredibly turned on except he really was still a bit wobbly on his feet, so he leaned a little closer to Antonio for support.

Antonio simply chuckled, but slowed them down just a bit, ambling along the ocean.

Lovino supposed that Antonio had indeed passed the first hurdle: guess what Lovino is thinking because he sure as hell isn't going to say it.

And, as lunch passed with chatter and laughter, as Antonio tugged Lovino further along the beach toward the houses that cost a fortune to rent, as Antonio laid Lovino down in soft sheets and peppered him with loving kisses and admiring touches, Lovino knew that Antonio was going to pass every other obstacle with flying colours of red and yellow.

Though really, Lovino should have gathered from the speedo.

* * *

 **Not entirely happy with the ending, but eh**

 **Also, comments are appreciated :D**


	4. Day 4 - Pride

**First Pride**

* * *

It was so crowded. Antonio had been warned, but somehow it hadn't registered into his brain. Maybe it was because he felt like such a minority that he hadn't expected such a turn-up. But here he was, drowning in people, having difficulty breathing.

He turned to Lovino and was terrified when his boyfriend was no longer by his side. What was he supposed to do now? Lovino had been to Prides before; this was Antonio's first. Should he call? No, Lovino had left his phone at home because they hadn't fitted in his tight pants. Shout? But there was no way his voice would carry over the noise of _everything_.

Antonio tried to breathe, but it was becoming more and more difficult.

His parents had been right. He was dumb and stupid and a no good homosexual and he should have stayed at Catholic school like a good boy. Except these were bad thoughts. Lovino had assured him that his parents were the dumb and stupid ones (even if they were Lovino's favourite words for him, but they were used lovingly) and there was nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing.

Oh, he was freaking out. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't breathe. He—

Almost punched Lovino in the face after he had grabbed his arm.

"Toni," Lovino said, kindly. His eyes were brighter than normal, but Antonio noticed the tinge of worry. He didn't want Lovi to worry about him when clearly he was enjoying himself.

"There you are, Lovi," he said, plastering on a smile. He grabbed his hand, just so he wouldn't lose him again.

Lovino watched him carefully before sighing and gently tugging him outside the crowd. Antonio was a little bit too relieved to protest as Lovino pulled him toward a sidewalk where only a handful of people milled around.

"There," Lovino said and sat down on the curb, making sure that Antonio settled against him. He wrapped his arm free around his waist and rubbed circles with his thumb. "Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Antonio followed Lovino's advice, keeping his head low and focusing on Lovino's instructions. It took forever until his brain came off its adrenaline rush. He buried his head in Lovino's neck.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Lovino paused his calming motions and huffed, brushing back Antonio's hair from his nose. "Whatever for?"

"For ruining Pride," Antonio said it seriously. "You were looking forward to it and I can't even handle standing in the crowd."

Lovino snorted, tugging at Antonio's hair in a silent reprimand. "Don't be stupid, Antonio."

"But I'm serious!" Antonio shot up, nearly taking Lovino out if hadn't been used to it already. Looking into his boyfriend's eyes, Antonio swallowed and continued, "I'm so lame. It's supposed to be fun, but all I can think about is how busy it is and then I hear my parents and I can't stop thinking about them."

Lovino sighed. "Antonio, you're not lame for having inhibitions."

"But—"

"No, listen to me." Lovino gave him a look and Antonio dutifully swallowed his words. "It's okay if you're not comfortable. My first Pride was awkward as hell, you have no idea. I mean, I had my twink of a brother dressed in booty shorts dragging me around and introducing me to every man with a tan and a nice ass."

Antonio smiled as Lovino scooted a little closer, raising a hand to Antonio's face. Instead of cupping his cheek, however, Lovino pinched it, shaking his head.

"What's _not_ okay, Antonio," Lovino continued, "is not telling me you were uncomfortable. I can't read your mind, even if you're kind of an idiot. You really should have told me. If you're not having fun, I'm not having fun."

Antonio averted his eyes when Lovino actually cupped his cheek. People always assumed Antonio was the confident one, but really, Lovino was much better at it than him.

"Still, if I don't put in effort in moving forward—"

"There's plenty of other ways to move forward." Lovino dropped his hand. He patted Antonio's leg as he stood, tugging Antonio along with him. "Let's go home and watch a movie."

"Are you sure?" Antonio bit his lip, not moving yet. He had to be sure.

Lovino gave him one of those looks before stepping closer, standing on his toes to give Antonio a quick kiss. "I love you, Antonio. Do things at your own pace. I'll adjust."

He winked and finally Antonio allowed himself to be walked home, for once not overly concerned about people seeing them holding hands.

* * *

 **I love writing confident Lovi/insecure Antonio too much**

 **Please review :D**


	5. Day 5 - Cooking (Nyotalia)

**Taste of Tomato Sauce**

* * *

Chiara didn't cook often. She didn't have the time. Between her job as a secretary at a fashion firm and her obligations to the neighbourhood association, what little free time she did have left, she liked to spend on her actual hobbies of gardening and sleeping.

So when Isabel came home late one day from Kindergarten due to parent-teacher talks, and smelled something distinctly Italian, she all but abandoned her coat and bag in the hallway and swooped up her girlfriend in a hug from behind.

"I love you!" Isabel cooed, burying her face in the crook of Chiara's neck.

"Yes, yes," Chiara said, not at all phased by the display of overt adoration. "Now behave and you might get desert as well."

Isabel hummed, pressing a kiss to soft, warm skin and sputtering as she caught a mouthful of hair.

Chiara rolled her eyes, brushing her hair across her shoulder. "Stupid."

Isabel squeezed her butt, eliciting a squeak. Grinning, she murmured, "We could start with desert also."

"And waste all the time I spent on dinner? Who do you take me for?" Chiara scoffed, but allowed herself to be twirled around.

Isabel pressed a quick kiss to her girlfriend's cheek. "You're right. I should've known better."

Chiara narrowed her eyes because she knew what game Isabel was playing. She was still debating on whether she intended to play, though.

The kitchen timer blared and Chiara untangled herself easily. Food had priority no matter what.

Isabel contended herself with settling on the kitchen counter to watch her work. She squirmed a little when Chiara tasted the sauce, not doing anything in particular, but Isabel was of the firm conviction that Chiara was cute doing anything at all.

Dropping the spoon back into the pan to stir some more, Chiara was well aware of Isabel watching her every move. How could she not? Isabel wasn't particularly subtle. Not ever, really. And Chiara really didn't mind either. She revelled in the attention. Sometimes, she would even indulge Isabel just a little, "accidentally" dropping things or licking the spoon just a little too intimately.

Today, she felt like indulging Isabel just a little more.

Stirring slowly, Chiara took the pan off the stove and carefully walked over to Isabel. As "accidental" as some of her methods were, the reason they worked was lodged in truth. And it would be remarkably less sexy if she tripped and doused her girlfriend in hot tomato sauce.

"A taste?" she asked innocently, holding up the spoon to Isabel's lips.

Isabel nodded eagerly, not one to ever say no to offered food. She closed her eyes as she tasted the sauce—spicy, but sweet, very reminiscent of her darling Italian—tipping her head back just a little and knowing full well what that did to her girlfriend.

Chiara shifted, placing the pan somewhere safely away from her shaking hands. The spoon soon returned to the pan and Isabel wove an arm around her waist. Leaning into it just a little, Chiara asked, "So, what do you think?"

"As wonderful as you, _querida_ ," Isabel said, smiling.

Chiara hummed, brushing her nose against Isabel's. It didn't take long for Isabel to catch the hint and kiss her.

But Chiara was nothing if not a tease and pulled away before Isabel could get her hands on the buttons of her blouse. She stuck out her tongue as Isabel whined and brought the sauce back to the stove.

"Chiara," Isabel said, making good use of the voice she knew did things to Chiara.

"After dinner. " Chiara turned her head so she could wink at her girlfriend. "Patience, and I might just treat you to something new tonight."

Isabel perked up, much like an overexcited puppy presented with a new toy. Cooking _and_ sex? Chiara had to be in a very good mood. Isabel almost couldn't contain herself. Almost. As it were, though, she clung to the counter until her knuckles turned white and crossed her legs.

So as Chiara continued to prepare dinner, Isabel allowed her mind to imagine everything Chiara could be doing to her tonight. God, she couldn't wait.

She slipped off the counter when Chiara asked her to set the table, wanting nothing more than to drag her to the bedroom, but had the presence of mind not to. If Chiara said later, she meant later. It also meant that Chiara had a plan, which probably involved making love throughout the night until neither knew who they were anymore.

"You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking," Chiara said as she deposited the plates on the table. She placed her hand on her hip, giving Isabel the _look_.

"What am I thinking?" Isabel grinned, leaning across the table. It earned her a pinch in the cheek.

Chiara sat down with a shake of her head. "Gross."

"I certainly hope so." That earned her a kick in the shins.

Pouting, Isabel picked up her cutlery and dug into the pasta. It was something complicated because Chiara never did the cooking half-assed. Laundry, yes. Cleaning, yes. But cooking went all the way up to chef quality. And it lived up to the expectations, as always.

"You've got a little—" Chiara stopped speaking, blushing, as Isabel looked up a little too quickly.

Chiara sighed and reached forward to wipe away the red sauce from her cheek with her thumb. Before she could move her hand back however, Isabel caught her wrist and licked her finger without breaking eye contact. Chiara swallowed.

Isabel didn't stop. Pressing kisses first to Chiara's knuckles, then moving along her palm, wrist, arm, she slowly pulled Chiara across the table.

"Isabel," Chiara said, voice thick and somewhat hesitant. The warning was lacking however, so Isabel took it as encouragement instead.

Shoving her plate aside, she stood and place her knee on the table, allowing Chiara to fall back into her chair as she leaned across the table to kiss her. The table, an old thing they got off a flea market, complained under Isabel's weight, and Chiara broke the kiss shortly to shoot it a dubious glance.

"Desert?" Isabel asked.

Chiara opened her mouth, closed it again, then nodded. Isabel was across the table in a second, straddling Chiara on the chair. The next second her blouse had most of its buttons undone and Isabel's mouth was attached to her neck. She rolled her head back, groaning as Isabel ground her hips down impatiently.

No, Chiara didn't cook often, but when she did, Isabel could taste tomato sauce for the remainder of the night.

* * *

 **I couldn't neglect my favourite lesbians**


	6. Day 6 - Laughter and Surprise

**A Sprinkler of Disaster**

* * *

This was the most ridiculous situation Lovino could have ever found himself in. And you could believe he had been in plenty already.

There had been that time when Lovino had been barely six years old and he had been _so_ excited to see the ducks in the pond that he had waddled right in with them because his grandfather had made the mistake of letting go of his hand for _one_ whole second. Cue grandpa jumping in after him, fishing him out by the scruff of his neck and fighting off a particularly angry duck at the same time.

There had also been that time during sixth grade where he had somehow managed to destroy the library because he had tripped and tipped over one of the bookcases which had caused the most impressive domino effect of disaster Lovino had ever managed.

And let's not even begin about high school. That was just one big ridiculous mess.

But then his relationship with Antonio had stipulated ridiculous as the norm. Lovino had almost gotten used to it. Almost.

But now he looked at the path of ruin that littered their apartment. Looked at Antonio sitting, head face down on the table. Took in the remainders of what was supposed to be a nice evening. Saw the ring box sitting on the other end of the table, just outside of Antonio's reach. All soaked through.

Normally he'd be furious. Normally he'd complain and whine and curse because life could never _ever_ give him lemons, could it? Normally, he'd pretend he hadn't seen a thing, turn back around and give Antonio time to set up a second chance.

Yet, Lovino allowed the door to fall close heavily behind him. He watched Antonio jerk upright, wet hair plastering against his forehead, and knock down the table in his haste to hide the box from Lovino's eyes.

Once he caught it, Antonio deflated into another puddle on the floor, head hanging low. He clutched the box to his chest. "Please, pretend you didn't see a thing."

Lovino still hadn't moved a muscle. His mind was still trying to puzzle together what could have possibly set this course of destruction in motion without it somehow not being entirely Lovino's fault for once.

Antonio must have been cooking and forgotten to watch the oven by the looks of the sad, burned lasagna sitting on the counter. Smoke, fire-alarm, automatic fire sprinklers system. Yeah, that seemed about it for the bad part of it all.

Now, the good part must have been Antonio's plan for proposal, including a dinner (already a big hitter), candles and rose petals (a little cheesy, but Lovino secretly loved it), and Lovino could see the nice velvet sheets for _afterwards_ from where Antonio had left the bedroom door open (very nice).

And now his boyfriend was sitting on the floor, dejected, soaking wet and for once in his life not looking at all like the man Lovino had come to know. In fact, the stroke of bad luck was such a surprising twist of fate that Lovino started laughing.

Antonio was normally the one with abnormal luck. He was that person who got free groceries for being the umpteenth customer in line or who won the goddamn lottery on a ticket he found in the subway. So for him to fall from grace, to fall into Lovino's hell—ah, it was soup for the soul.

So, he laughed and Antonio looked up, eyes wide, teetering on the brink of confusion and tears.

"Oh, Antonio," Lovino sighed, walking over to him. He knelt in front of him. He had taken off his shoes and socks at the door, but the wet carpet still did not feel great against his bare feet.

Brushing Antonio's hair back, he placed a kiss on his forehead. He wanted to take the ring box from Antonio, but it seemed wrong, so instead he pried on hand from it and squeezed it.

"It's okay," he said because it really was. Sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by drenched furniture and ruined appliances, Lovino couldn't have felt more comfortable. He pressed a kiss to Antonio's hand, smiling.

Antonio stared at his hand and then down at the box, breathing shakily. Softly, so unlike Antonio, he muttered, "I want it to be perfect."

Lovino snorted, quickly doing another take of the room. When he settled back on Antonio, he saw his trepidation. "I mean, you haven't exactly done anything."

"Done anything?" Antonio's hand went away from Lovino's so he could swing it in a wide arc around the room. His voice broke as he spoke again. "I think I've done plenty."

Lovino rolled his eyes, pulling Antonio in a quick hug. When he pulled back, he flicked his forehead. "You haven't asked jack shit."

"Why would I—"

"Antonio." Lovino grabbed his chin, dropping his amusement in favour of seriousness. Sometimes Antonio needed a little of that. "For as far as I'm concerned, my life wouldn't be perfect if you weren't in it."

Antonio stared at him as Lovino slowly but surely turned a deeper shade of red. After what felt like forever, Lovino dropped his hand from Antonio's chin and covered his own face, breathing something about "talking about cheesy confessions, stupid."

"Oh," Antonio said, intelligently. He was running his hands along the ring box now in silent contemplation.

Honestly, Lovino didn't care one way or another where or when Antonio was going to ask him, the though alone made him happy enough. And if Antonio decided to wait, that was fine too. Lovino could be patient occasionally.

"Lovi," Antonio said softly, "could you, maybe, wait in the hallway for a bit?"

Lovino blinked, nodded and stood slowly, wondering whether Antonio was going to have a silent breakdown while he wasn't in the room. But Antonio looked so serious now, and seemed to have a new light in his eyes, so Lovino stepped back outside into the hallway to give him so space.

The old lady from across the hall gave him a strange look as she pushed her walker toward the exit. Lovino gave her a half-hearted smile, mouthing "accident" and pointing to the fire sprinkler in the middle of the hallway. She just rolled her eyes, vanishing into the elevator.

He sighed, leaning against the door. He was soggy now, and he worried for his books and his clothes. He hoped that whatever Antonio was doing wouldn't take too long. They really had to get started on drying everything.

When the door opened again, Lovino almost fell back with it if it weren't for Antonio being used to it. He held the door while Lovino scrambled to find his balance.

"Okay, so," Antonio said, taking Lovino's hand and dragging him to the middle of the living room. Nothing seemed to have changed except for Antonio's demeanour, so that had to be somewhat promising.

When Antonio turned around and took both Lovino's hands in his, Lovino tried very hard not to smile. By the spark in Antonio's eye, he was failing pretty badly.

"Lovino, I love you," Antonio started, smiling. "I had a whole speech prepared, but, um, I kind of forgot."

Lovino snorted, shaking his head. Antonio powered through though, fuelled by the wonderfully rare smile Lovino was sporting.

"Anyway, beside everything pretty much going wrong tonight—" Antonio let go of Lovino's hands to pull the ring box from his back pocket. He brandished it with confidence and took out the simple golden ring from within. "Will you marry me?"

Lovino took the ring from Antonio's fingers to inspect it, holding it up to the light. It was pretty, dainty, a perfect engagement ring.

He looked at Antonio, smiling, and opened his mouth to answer—

There was a worrisome click and before either could say anything, the sprinklers started again, soaking Lovino to the bone within seconds.

"What the—" Lovino brushed his hair from his eyes and promptly burst into laughter when he saw the downright pitiful look on Antonio's face as he stared up at the closest perpetrator.

"Why?" Antonio asked, touching the cross at his neck as he gestured up to the ceiling.

Lovino was still laughing, so Antonio turned to him when there was no answer from above, giving him this look of despair.

"Lovi," he whined. "This isn't even funny anymore."

"Yes, it is," Lovino breathed, clutching his stomach. If the sprinklers weren't already doing it for him, Lovino would have had to wipe tears from his eyes. "Oh my God, Antonio. This is the funniest shit that has happened in our relationship, I swear."

Antonio pouted, but finally pulled Lovino close in an embrace. "You still haven't given an answer," he whispered.

Lovino was still caught in laughter, shaking his head at Antonio's impatient huff. It just made Lovino laugh louder because there was such a strange (ridiculous) role reversal going on that Lovino doubted there was any recovering at all.

Antonio eventually resorted to squishing Lovino's cheeks which resulted in Lovino yanking his arms down before kissing Antonio. He kissed him until Antonio finally seemed to relax.

When they broke apart, Lovino pressed his forehead to Antonio's and closed his eyes for a moment, just to gather his thoughts. When he opened them to Antonio, his green eyes glinting in the dying light of the ceiling lamp, there was only one answer available to him.

"Yes," he said with a conviction he didn't often feel. "Of course I'll marry you, stupid."

Antonio finally breathed out a laugh, kissing Lovino again as he lifted him off the ground for a quick twirl. When he had set him back on the floor, Antonio took the ring from Lovino and slid it around his finger with the utmost concentration. When he was certain the ring fit, he lifted Lovino's hand to his lips and kissed the golden band.

Lovino made a show of rolling his eyes, but was quickly pulled into another bone crushing hug from Antonio. Burying his face in the crook of Antonio's neck, he couldn't help the giddy remark that slipped past his lips.

"See, perfect all the same."

And then the lights flickered before giving up completely. Antonio threw his hands up in the air, cursing God and all that was holy in a garbled mix of Spanish, Italian and English.

Lovino really, really couldn't love the idiot more.


	7. Day 7 - Comfort and Healing

**Nightmares**

* * *

Spain isn't sure what triggered it this time. Maybe it was the grand opening of the exhibition on the Civil War in the _Museo de Historia de Madrid_. Maybe it was the discussion on the monument of Franco flaring to life once more. Maybe his economy hit a low point yet again.

But he is tired. Tired and empty. He just wants to curl up in bed and not face the world. To not face his government and having to try and explain that he wasn't feeling well, that they should really consider investing more into restoring the economy. Not that they would listen. They never do. Humans are so caught up in their own affairs that they don't even care about their own country anymore.

Spain is tired, but he is still the Kingdom of Spain. So he hauls himself out of the comfort and safety of his blankets, finds something decent to wear and slumps down the stairs.

His aide is waiting on the curb, impatiently tapping his foot against the concrete. Spain always thinks the man is too tightly wired and normally he would have smiled and cheerfully bid him good day. Today, however, he just barely manages a shaky smile before he slips in the backseat.

The man—Spain can't recall his name; his mind is too jumbled—stands outside for a moment longer before sitting in the driver's seat. He shoots a worried look across his shoulder as he puts the car into first gear. Spain ignores him, staring out of the window and hoping that the day would pass quickly. Maybe he could sneak in a nap too. That'd be nice.

The drive to work is hell. It's too loud, too much and Spain closes his eyes until they reach the government building in Madrid.

He doesn't waste any time in scrambling out of the car and into the building, begging to God for a calm and easy working day. But this was politics, and politics were never calm and easy.

After three hours of meetings and debates, he is finally released for a lunch break. He spends it in his little office, head on his desk, hoping desperately for his headache to go away.

When he is once more fetched to sign important legal documents, he almost passes out as he stands up. He manages to catch himself on the desk and smiles at the secretary giving him a worried, but cursory glance. It wouldn't do for the Kingdom of Spain to faint. The humans would go into an unnecessary (but actually very necessary) tizzy.

Five o'clock sends a wave of relief through Spain's body that is only partially caused by the collective relief of his people. He stumbles down the stairs, then trips and splays out across the carpet in front of the reception desk.

His head is spinning, his ears are ringing, and it takes him a moment to recognize the polished leather shoes gently poking his face.

"Oi, stupid, did you actually lose your brain?"

Normally, it is a blessing when Romano comes to visit, but now? Spain wants nothing more than to curl up in a ball in his bed and not think for a long, long while. He doesn't have the mental capacity to dance his and Romano's complicated steps of "are we flirting or are we actually dating or is it really just all in my head?"

Slowly, Spain sits, touching his forehead. His headache has grown into a full blown migraine by now and he winces at the simple thought alone.

A hand swipes his own away from his forehead. Golden eyes regard him solemnly as Romano moves his free hand up to check Spain's temperature.

Romano hisses and he pulls his hand back, scowling as he squatted in front of Spain. "You look like shit."

Spain laughs, but it lacks any usual humour. "Feel like it too," he says.

Romano observes him quietly for a long moment before sighing. He stands, pats down his pockets in silent aggravation before he takes a handful of Spain's suit and hauls him to his feet. There is a shocked murmur from the receptionist, but honestly Spain is rather thankful. He doesn't think he could have gotten up on his own anymore.

Romano drags him outside after a quick wink and smile at the receptionist and all but throws Spain into the passenger seat of his Lamborghini. It takes Spain about the time it takes for Romano to buckle his belt, start the engine and set the car rolling down the parking lot to fasten his own seatbelt.

He lets his head loll against the window, closing his eyes against the scenery speeding by. It is the best way to both survive Romano's driving and minimize input for his poor, suffering brain.

Soon enough they arrive back at Spain's mansion just outside the city. Romano parks the car right outside the gate, crunching unto the gravel without a second thought.

Spain watches Romano get out of the car, not entirely grasping it's expected of him as well. It isn't until Romano opens the door on his side that Spain's brain catches up and he releases his belt. He takes Romano's surprisingly thoughtful hand and follows him inside the house like a lost lamb.

Romano leaves him in the hallway, shrugging off his suit jacket as he strides toward the kitchen. Spain is too tired to be curious and meanders toward the living room. When his knees hit the couch, he collapsed, closing his eyes to blessed darkness.

He wakes two hours later, according to Romano sitting in the large armchair by the hearth. He glances up from his iPhone (a gift from Veneziano), scowling as Spain rolls right off the couch in an attempt to escape the drool-covered pillow.

Groaning, he touches his forehead because somehow his migraine has gotten much, much worse. Romano ends up once more at his side, looming over him in silent reproach. It takes him a moment to understand the Italian being said to him.

"I'm not hungry," Spain mutters, "but thank you for offering, Roma. So kind of you…"

"It wasn't a question," Romano snaps.

He's gone again the next moment and Spain has the vague notion he should get up and make it to the dinner table before Romano does something else drastic and confine him to the bed. Even if that's really what Spain craves at that point, he doesn't want Romano to know he's that far gone yet. Not after last time.

Then Romano is back and he's helping Spain sit up. He passes him a glass of water that Spain sips gratefully before leaving once more.

Spain can smell the delicious aromas of Italian cooking as Romano returns to the living room, holding a plate. He deposits it on the table, kneeling next to Spain.

"Eat. I don't care if it's three bites, but _eat_ ," Romano says and it's almost gentle.

So Spain peers down at the plate and is glad to see that Romano didn't put all of his culinary talent into it. It would have gone to waste without a doubt. But Spain could handle pasta, so he lifts the fork to his lips and eats slowly.

He manages five bites before his stomach starts to complain and he sags back again the couch.

Romano doesn't say anything, but his hand brushes over Spain's and he sighs.

"So what's it this time?" Romano asks because he always knows.

"Not sure." Spain drops his head to Romano's shoulder, closing his eyes. "I'm just tired."

"You should've stayed in bed." Yet, Romano doesn't move. "Idiot."

Spain hums. He wants to sleep, right here near Romano. And it seems as if Romano can read his mind because he tells him to do just that.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of gunshots. Has to grab his knife, his axe, his gun. Quick, quick before they overrun us. Throw on chain mail, armour, a helmet. Where did he—

"Spain!"

Hands on his face, soft but firm. He can't see. It's too dark! He needs to—he needs to go! People are screaming! People are dying! He needs—

"Shit, Spain—"

Spain roughly removes the hands from his face and attempts to stand. He stumbles. Something—something hard is in his way and he trips, but he's caught before he hits the ground.

"Jesus Christ."

If only. If only he could be saved by Him. If only his people could be saved. They had to be saved!

Spain tries to escape from the hands again. His people—the gunshots are getting louder. He has to _move_ —has to save them!

"Antonio!"

He's pulled into a hug, his head tucked underneath someone's chin. Not someone, Romano—Lovino. Lovino is hugging him, first whispering soft Italian before he flows into Spanish. Lovino never speaks Spanish, not unless Antonio is a real mess and that hasn't happened since the Civil War—Oh.

He realizes belatedly that he's crying, but when he does, he breaks. He clutches at Lovino desperately, burying his head in the crook of his neck. He sobs and sobs and sobs. He didn't know a person could hold so many tears, but there seems no end to them.

Meanwhile Lovino continues to speak in Spanish, whispering everything and nothing in Antonio's ears. At some point, even he runs out of words and starts kissing the top of Antonio's head.

"It's okay," he whispers, still in Spanish, in between kisses. "You're not there, Antonio. You're here, with me, in your living room, in the twenty-first century. It's all right."

Antonio hiccups. He wants to say something, anything, but his throat has stopped working. So he just nuzzles closer, breathing in Lovino's expensive aftershave.

It takes what feels like hours before the tears finally stop falling. Antonio swallows as Lovino continues to stroke his hair. The words have long since stopped, but he's still there, calming and steady.

He can feel Lovino draw in air to speak and he's almost afraid he's going to be told off, told to go to bed, alone. To let go of Lovino when all he wants is to be closer.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lovino asks, quietly, hesitantly even.

Antonio breathes out, closing his eyes for a moment. He doesn't even know what there was to talk about or even begin to explain. "I don't know," he says after three false starts in which his voice had refused to cooperate.

Lovino shifts a little until Antonio catches the hint and moves sideways on Lovino's laps, breathing a little easier, but still able to hide away in his neck.

"That's not an answer. Either you want to talk it about it or not," Lovino says.

Antonio laughs shakily because for once it's Lovino being stern with him, extracting the answer from him like he normally has to with Lovino. Except Lovino's fingers haven't stopped carding through his hair and it's all so _intimate_ ; before, the closest Lovino had allowed Antonio to be near when he was having a breakdown was allowing Antonio to hold his hand from across the table.

"Okay," Antonio breathes. "I'd like to talk about it, but I don't know where to begin."

"Better." Lovino leans back a little, looking up at the ceiling, perhaps for advice. "Why don't you start with what you saw? You were speaking freakishly fast; I couldn't follow."

Antonio swallows, leaning his head against Lovino's shoulder. Lovino's heartbeat was grounding and very, very soothing.

"Gunshots. I thought we were being attacked. All I heard were gunshots and screaming and people dying and I couldn't do anything, Lovi."

Lovino sighs and places another kiss on top of Antonio's head. He doesn't know where the sudden physicality comes from, but he never wants it to end now.

Oh, God. There was no going back after this now. He couldn't. Antonio couldn't handle doing the steps with Lovino again now that he has experienced this. He wants to dance in a relationship, not on the brink of one.

"Antonio," Lovino says, moving just so he could look Antonio in the eyes. Even the darkness of his living room couldn't dim the gold that glittered in them like the gold that used to fill every corner of his house.

"Does that—do you—" As Lovino grasps for the right words, Antonio searches for the hand on his thigh and holds onto it. Lovino pauses, then presses his nose into Antonio's hair. "Are they recurring?"

"The dreams?"

He waits for the softest of scoffs to leave Lovino's throat, followed by the quiet, "Duh." Good, as much as he likes this side of Lovi, he was starting to miss his snark just a little.

"Not that often. Just… sometimes," he hesitates, then decides to hell with it. There was nothing left to lose when it came to Lovino, not after tonight. "Mostly when you're gone, really. You keep them away."

That earns him a pinch in the ear and a huff. "How stupid."

Antonio chances a glance up to confirm his suspicions and yes, Lovino is blushing very, very hard. He smiles and, without really thinking about it, he presses his lips against Lovino's throat.

"Really stupid," Lovino mumbles.

"The stupidest," Antonio agrees and pinches Lovino's side in a small retaliation. "But it's the truth, Lovi."

Lovino doesn't say anything to that. He just pulls Antonio closer.

They sit silently for a little while. Antonio starts to drowse again, though he's somewhat afraid that if he falls asleep again, he'll have another nightmare.

But it seems as if Lovino has gotten very good at reading his mind and asks, "Anything else you'd like to share?"

"I bought a new turtle plushie."

Another pinch, this time in his cheek, long and hard. "About your dreams, dumbass."

Antonio hums, waiting for Lovino to continue petting his hair. When he does, Antonio says, "They're not linked to any particular time period. People just die and I can't do anything. They always die differently." He thinks for a moment. "The worst is when I see them burn."

Lovino sighs his name. He leans back his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed in thought.

"Sometimes I recognize faces." Antonio feels the urge to cry again, but he doubts he has any tears left. He should probably drink some water, but that involves leaving the warmth and comfort of Lovino and he really doesn't want to. "Most often it's you."

Lovino looks at him, and Antonio can't read the expression he's wearing. It's as if he's trying to go for a blank one, but there are too many emotions swirling in his head. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Okay," Lovino eventually says. It's clearly not what he meant to say because he grinds his teeth. "I—Just…" he pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning back from Antonio. "Why—"

"Because—"

" _No_ ," Lovino says sharply. "Let me finish."

Antonio swallows, shrinking just a little in on himself. Lovino scowls at that, fingers curling in Antonio's hair. He struggles with his expression for a moment however, and manages to smooth it out into something calmer, nicer. Lovino was truly trying to be considerate (not that Antonio needed convincing of that; he has known for centuries). He waits until Antonio relaxes again before continuing, softer this time.

"What I meant is: have they always been there?"

"The dreams about you?"

Lovino purses his lips and Antonio knows he's teetering on dangerous territory, but they need to move forward. And to do that, Antonio might have to—

"Don't change the subject." Lovino's voice is clipped. He does not want to move forward. Lovino has a very strange fear against moving forward. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the Mezzogiorno can't move forward due to the economic divide with the north. Maybe Lovino is just very complicated.

"Lovi," Antonio says. "You know as well as I that the dreams never leave." He sighs and closes his eyes, listening to Lovino's heartbeat. "But neither do you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lovino mutters.

"That you're just as constant as the dreams, but the dreams are not constant when you're with me."

Lovino is quiet, but his hand is trailing through the hairs at the back of his neck. He pulls Antonio just a little closer and says, "Then sleep, stupid. I'm here."

Antonio smiles as Lovino presses one last kiss to his head. While their position is far from comfortable, and Antonio will wake the next morning with more pains than it was probably worth it, he feels much, much more at peace than he has felt in centuries.

"I love you," Antonio mumbles into the fabric of Lovino's shirt. He isn't sure whether Lovino even caught it, but he imagines that Lovino tightens his hold just a bit more as he drifts off to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 ***Squints at the things I** **'ve written for this week***

 **Me: hmmm** **… Lovino: Antonio = "stupid" (lovingly)**

 **Anyway! That wraps it up! Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed my contributions to this year** **'s Spamano Week! I certainly enjoyed writing them! It was a really good chance for me to play around with my writing and experiment a little, especially with styles and characters.**

 **I** **'m actually really curious as to which one was your favourite (I certainly have one myself)! Leave a comment here (or on the corresponding chapter) or go to my writing Tumblr: writingsofasnowywolff (shameless plug) to shout at me there. I'd love to talk a little more about these stories if your interested, so if you have any questions or would like to learn more about the universes they're set in, maybe go check it out :D**


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